Scacred Night
by FantasyEmpire
Summary: *INSPIRED BY TOG NOT TOG* While Kavan and his companions infiltrate the palace in search of the most powerful being in the realm, she lies wasting away. Silently praying that the Gods will end her misery. Will she avenge her lost brother, or be torn apart by grief? Will Kavan kill her, or will he find something he wasn't even looking for?


Numbness gnawed at her. Harsher than the cold that bit her hands, crueler than the thoughts that threatened to rip her apart. There was nothing there, her fire had burned out. A light extinguished by the unending abyss of death that had drowned her. She couldn't feel, couldn't think, couldn't speak. It felt as though her senses had been torn from her, leaving only emptiness and a deafening silence in their wake.

Time had slowed, her surroundings leeched of their colour. Her breathing echoed in her ears, heavy, labored. Every movement felt strained. A constant battle between mind and body, forcing her to drag herself towards the palace gates. As she neared its spires reached upward in the air, like a glacier of ice stretching into the sky. But today it held no beauty, it was merely a building, a stranger much like any other building within the city.

Moving was torturous, it sent dull pains through her body. As the gates came closer, she could see the guards on duty. Their armor glinting slightly in the moonlight, weapons held at their sides. They were completely unmoving, statues, until she came close enough that they noticed her wavering steps. The guard closest, a woman who looked in her mid-thirties, reacted first. Reaching forward as Aurelia's legs gave out from under her. She caught her shoulders moments before her face hit the ground and began shouting for a healer. A whimper escaped from her lips as the pressure pushed down on an already gaping wound, it was so small, so agonizing.

Everything that came next was a blur. The gates swung open and more guards ran out, but there was no sound, no colour. All around her, the guards, the castle, it was all losing its hue. More people came out, healers in homespun dresses and worn trousers and shirt, slowly kneeling before her scanning her body. She was a wreck, a near lifeless vessel, slipping away from the life that so desperately tried to hold on.

A mans face came into view. He was slipping in and out of her vision, blurring as the healers moved her head from left to right. Scared to move her incase they damaged her already ruined body. It took a few moments until she truly recognized his face. Airell, a mentor, a friend. He was here and watching as she gradually slipped from her body, unable to help. It hurt, to see his eyes showing the pain he tried so hard to hide. She tried to speak, tried to tell him that she would be ok, but no words came out. Only a painful breath escaped her lips. He kept on mouthing something repeatedly, eyes widening in horror as he saw the wounds that littered her body. But she couldn't hear, couldn't make out the words he was saying over the nothingness that engulphed her.

Finally, they made to move her into the castle. One of the guards harrowingly lifted her and carried her towards the palace doors. She was limp in his arms, hanging between his hands. It wasn't until they made it to the oak doors of the entrance that her panic set in. She began gulping down the air as if it was being stolen from her lungs. No. No. No. No. Not after what she'd done, she couldn't even face the king, not without Torben standing beside her. But Torben was gone. Torben was nothing more than a lifeless body laying in a tomb that was not even his. He was nothing but a memory to them all now, left behind where he had been so brutally killed.

Warm, sticky blood coated her hands. She didn't know whether it was real or whether it was fake as it flooded down from her finger tips and up her arms. It was his blood, the blood that had soaked her as she had held onto him during his last breaths. Screaming, an unending shriek of suffering and anguish filled her head. So loud her ears ached, and the short pang of pain she felt all over her body was reduced to nothing. It ripped through her veins, searing her skin and rattling her bones. The guard ran faster, racing through the doorway and into the throne room. She was scratching her wrists, frantically trying to erase the red that stained her arms. Healers tried to pull apart her hands as more and more blood poured, but they couldn't. It wouldn't go away. The more she scratched the more blood streamed. Tears flowed down her face in torrents, she couldn't live. Not like this, she didn't want to. Not with this grief. Not with this weight on her shoulders. She didn't want to live alone. Dying would be better.

Kavan and his companions stood before the king. All rugged after the journey, all alert and calculating. By his queens orders they were here, to renew trade agreements with the queen but also to learn as much as they could about the kings most infamous warrior. No one outside of the elven empire's walls knew much about her. She was a secret, whispered about in front of the hearth. A story hidden from the outside world.

"So General Mourdane, I recently got word that you would be arriving soon. On what orders where you sent to me." Said the king coolly, demanding an answer, addressing not only him but his company as well. Watching them all with clever eyes. It was strange to think that before him sat one of the most powerful being in the realm, a ruler of the most prosperous empire in all Neigane.

He nodded, noting the guards that hid above him on the balconies of the throne room. Bows poised and ready to shoot an arrow through his throat. Had he have been a mortal, and an extremely observant one at that, he would've been scared. But even being out-numbered by them held no threat him and his cadre could wipe them all out in a matter of seconds.

"Yes, Your Majesty." He said, silently cringing as he bowed his head. "We have been sent by Queen Henoe to seal our new trade agreements and then we shall be on our way." His face was schooled into an unperturbed mask, not giving away any of their other orders to the king. Keeping their mission secret was key.

"Very well. Your rooms are located on the top floors, Narah will escort you too your rooms. I shall expect that you will be on your way in a—"

The Kings words were interrupted by chaotic shouting and a scream that pierced the air. He grasped the arms of his throne as the guards at the door unsheathed their weapons. Someone banged on the doors calling out for help as the wailing got louder. It reverberated around the hall. His hand was already gripping his dagger, ready to cut down whatever came through the door. The Kings guards looked towards him, his brow was furrowed, expression hesitant. With a short nod the doors were pulled open. Before they even fully opened a group of guards and healers bustled in, talking and shouting frantically. All bustling about something he could not see. At least not until a man ran forwards towards the altar at the side of the room.

In his arms was a woman, covered in dirt and blood. Scraping her arms so hard the skin was raw, and blood dripped onto the marble floors. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she said a name over and over again.

"Torren. Torren. Torren." The entire room was still, so quiet apart from the mayhem that took place in the corner. Faster than he had ever seen anyone move the king stood and hurried towards the woman who was being chained down at the altar. His subjects cleared a path for him as he reached for her and grasped onto the stone so hard, he was surprised it didn't snap.

His voice was stricken, and he stroked her hair, unsure of what to do. Unsure of how to console her. So, there he stood saying her name. "Aurelia. Aurelia, please. Aurelia breathe." But it was like she couldn't hear him; didn't even know he was there as she writhed in the chains. Jerking violently against them.

Cold, hard metal held down her wrists and ankles, paralyzing her. Trapping her. It only made it worse. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see over the tears that filled her eyes. Magic coursed through her, threatening to explode within her veins. She leashed it, yanking against its pulse and reining it back in. A sharp prick of pain travelled up her arm, she was so busy struggling that she hadn't noticed the sedative they injected into her. It lulled her into oblivion, making the room spin and blackness seep into the corners of her vision. The burst of energy she felt dimmed, leeched from her as the drug worked its way through her veins.

At least now she could be free. Blissfully unaware to what happened around her. Untouched by the horror that awaited when she awoke. As darkness claimed her the kings face came into view, his face worried, sorrowful. Watching as she closed her eyes, stroking her head until she wasn't in anymore pain. The drug worked quickly; in a matter of seconds she felt her entire body relax. She couldn't stop it as her eyes closed and she drifted off into sleep.

It seemed that for a few minutes him and his cadre had been forgotten about. That was until Narah snapped out of her shock and stepped forward. He watched as she silently beckoned for them to follow her and began moving towards the arch way she moved towards. So many questions bounced around in his mind. He would find out tomorrow from somewhere or other, but now they must rest. As they travelled down the hallway his companions drifted away one by one, directed towards separate rooms by Narah, until it was only him left.

Before he entered his room, she blocked the door way, not seeming to care that he towered above her.

"You do not speak a work of this." She said, staring him down with a harshness even he couldn't match, "Do you understand."

After she didn't break eye contact, he slowly nodded his head. Better to remain unsuspicious than to be seen as someone who would tell. As soon as he replied she left, deftly dodging around him and down the hallway. Tomorrow he would search the palace for answers.

Tomorrow he and his cadre would look for the person they needed.


End file.
